When the shotas cry
by hikachu
Summary: Some of Ciel's guests and even Sebastian are now dead. Whodunnit? One of the twelve people in the mansion, the thirteenth person who should not exist or... a witch? When the shotas cry, nobody will be left alive... Set during chap.45 of Kuroshitsuji.


The air in the parlor was thick with distrust and fear. Almost as poisonous as the air you breathed in certain parts of London: all grey ashes and toxic fumes from the factories.

The remaining guests threw rapid glances at each other, suspecting and afraid; the only exceptions were the young Earl and Lau, who discussed the murders with unnaturally calm voices. (The Chinese man even looked amused by the mysterious circumstances of the tragedy, smiling slyly and petting his expressionless little sister as if she had been an oversized cat.)

Ciel Phantomhive looked at the storm outside before turning to face the other.

"Even so, isn't it unlikely that he would be able to wander around the mansion and into a locked room without leaving footprints if he had been out in the storm before?"

Lau's smile only widened.

"Wouldn't your 'unlikely' become likely with the existence of a thirteenth person? The one thing that doesn't exist in this world is 'definite' – if you reverse 'definite' then _anything_ could be lurking in this castle. If he's lying in wait for a chance to attack us, aiming for our lives… He might be not that far off anymore…"

And for a moment, they all heard it: "Kukuku… not bad for a mere human, not bad…" – it was the soft, barely audible, taunting voice of a woman, but everyone seemed to dismiss it as a sort of hallucination, daydream, produced by their own fears. Nobody said anything until Woodley shook his head and spoke.

"The thirteen person that shouldn't exist…" he gritted his teeth and paused. His fists were shaking. This couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening to him of all people. "Hmph, I'm telling you, it's unreal for such a person to be—"

"Young master!" Bard slammed the door open. His face was as pale as a sheet.

"We saw something weird in the hallway!" Finnian shouted, his round cute face drenched in sweat. "Butterflies! They shined in the darkness and were so weird, and we followed them—and then we saw her and—"

"And she didn't stop when we told her to and kept walking toward this room!" Mayleen finished. She was shaking as well, but both hands were tightly wrapped around two guns.

The guests gasped, some jumping to their feet or wrapping their arms around themselves in a protective stance. Ciel frowned, looking even more annoyed.

"Are you saying that a woman – someone who wasn't invited to the party – is here?" It shouldn't have been possible—

"Kihihihi…" again, that voice. This time, though, it was definitely louder and everybody's eyes traveled across the room, searching for the mysterious woman, hoping to find her before she could find them.

"I am the Earl Phantomhive and this is my mansion!" Ciel shouted, "Show yourself already!"

"Fufufufu… Kyahahahahahaha! So little yet so brave, aren't you!"

Dozens, no, hundreds of golden butterflies filled the parlor at those words. The people in the room, except the two siblings still on the couch and Ciel, shrieked and pressed themselves against the walls as the butterflies flew all towards the same spot, frantically moving their wings.

"You should truly learn to be more respectful, Ciel Phantomhiiiiiiiiiveeee!"

"Tch," the boy glared at the blond woman who was now standing in front of him – right where the butterflies – which were now nowhere to be seen – had previously gathered.

"Your friend," she started, using her pipe to indicate Lau, "is right. The culprit isn't among the twelve people who have come to this mansion to attend your party, young Earl. However," she added, eyes laughing and small fangs showing as her arrogant grin widened, "our dear Woodley, here, isn't entirely wrong either: the thirteenth person does not exist, for the killer isn't human. Fufufu…" she gripped his chin and Ciel winced, feeling her nails biting into his skin, "the one who killed your butler and your guests is none other than me, Beatrice the Golden, the great witch how has lived for a thousand years! Bow down before me and—"

"Just shut up, you old hag."

Everyone – witch included – let out a surprised gasp.

"Wha…" Beatrice blinked and her grin dissolved into a puzzled expression.

Before she could react and maybe teach the little brat his place, another swarm of golden butterflies filled the room and a young man wearing a white suit and a black cape appeared behind the witch.

"There you are. I knew you have no shame, but picking on a kid…? Really Beato, have you sunk that low?"

Blushing furiously, Beatrice turned around to face the redhead.

"B-Battler…? S-Shut up! I wasn't _picking_ _on_ anyone and this isn't none of your—"

"Actually, it is. Virgilia asked me to find you," he grinned. "I think you should get ready for a good, old lecture from her for when we get home."

"I'm not a child anymore!" she spluttered, clearly embarrassed. "Besides! This uncouth brat just called me an… an…"

"… Old hag," Ciel repeated, tone flat.

"See! Say something, Battleeer! Shouldn't you defend your wife when someone insults her?"

But the other only smiled innocently. "Why should I? You aren't a child anymore, after all. I'm sure you don't need my help at all."

The witch was literally fuming as she started to punch Battler's chest. "I… I'll kill you! You… useless i-idioooot! When we get home I'll remind you of your plaaaceee!"

"Ihihi. I'm looking forward to that."

If possible, the way he smiled and his tone made the blush staining Beatrice's face darken even more; she barely managed to throw one last glare at her husband before disappearing in a flurry of butterflies.

"Well," Battler began, scratching his head. "Sorry if that idiot ruined your fun… oh, and good luck finding the culprit! _Have a nice day_!"

And then, he too, disappeared.

Ciel and his guests stared at each other for several long minutes, not realizing that Beato's appearance, although brief, had vastly improved the quality of Kuroshitsuji, almost turning it into a half-decent manga – something that Yana Toboso herself could have never done on her own.


End file.
